


Irreplaceable

by cleo4u2



Category: The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Comic Book compliant, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, except the part where Cougar doesn't fucking die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: Cougar finds a way not to die, then finds his way back to Jake.





	Irreplaceable

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Errors are all my own.

“He’s got a nuke!” one of Max’s assholes screamed.

Cougar smiled, lips stretching over his teeth, and closed his eyes. This was it. Jake would be far enough away, too far to come back. Max wouldn't get out of this one and maybe he'd get Aisha, too.

“Via con dios, angelitos.”

As he said the prayer, Cougar reconnected the ends of the nuke in his lap. The bomb sparked and the timer blinked to life, red numbers counting down from…

Half an hour?

Cougar grunted. Then he started laughing.

“What a loser,” Cougar mumbled, holding his ribs as the bullets in his chest burned with the contraction of his muscles.

Then he realized no one had tried to fill him with additional holes while he was distracted. A glance at the door showed no guards peeking around the corner, readying to blast him. Another moment of listening and his mouth slackened in surprise. He couldn't hear anyone, either. No boots scuffling on the catwalk, no whispered orders, not even labored breathing. They'd fled the nuke that wasn't even going off.

“Heh.”

Sooner or later Max or his goons would realize they hadn’t gone up in a fiery explosion and would come back for him. Max could get away. Again. Those kids, those little angels, wouldn't be able to rest. 

Cougar took a breath and shook his head. He would just have to hide the bomb. Then he'd wait for the end. Jake would understand.

The thought of Jake brought his face to mind. He'd blustered and babbled, but that was Jake. Even as he knew he would never see Cougar again, even as tears and built behind his glasses, he’d been his usual, affable self. Cougar took a shaky breath, holding his ribs tight. Jake would understand. It was all too much; the nightmares, the sleepless nights, seeing and smelling and hearing those children screaming… 

Jake would understand. 

Cougar had been shot, he was bleeding out, probably had internal injuries. There was a nuke. It was going to be hard enough to find a place to hide the bomb while he was bleeding all over the place.

Jake _would_ understand. He would move on, settle near Pooch and Jolene. Maybe he'd get a dog; Jake had always wanted a dog. He'd be fine and Cougar would finally find peace.

Groaning, Cougar forced himself to his knees and rolled the bomb toward the pipe they'd come in through. If Aisha’s pal had gotten it here the same way they’d swum in, it would be waterproof and the pipe was perfect to hide the nuke while he found one of those shelters Max’s people had been shouting about. He had to at least try because he was kidding himself to believe Jake would ever forgive himself for leaving Cougar behind. That wouldn't happen in a million years. Now that he had a shot, he had to at least try to survive.

Even if he was still going to die.

With the nuke tucked away, Cougar just had to slow his bleeding. Somehow. _Damn it_. If Jake had just not _cried_ he wouldn't have to work so hard.

The good thing about being on an old, out of service oil rig was that it didn't take any effort to find a roll of duct tape. The dead had enough cloth for pressure bandages, but it was a good bit harder to get them in place and strapped to his skin with the duct tape. The bleeding wouldn't stop entirely, but it would buy him enough time to find the bunker Max was hunkered down in, take it for himself, and leave Max to enjoy the fallout of his empire. Then, if he made it that far, he could pass out and wait for the UN rescue teams. Or die, but he’d have given it a shot at that point. Jake couldn’t be mad at him in the afterlife if he _tried_.

Snagging a rifle from a dead goon, Cougar stalked into the hall and went looking for prey.

\----

Jake liked to think he was doing alright.

After telling Steggler to fuck off, he'd set up new identities for Pooch, Jolene, and their two little ones in the Caribbean. They might be cleared of all charges, but Jake wasn't taking chances. Max had had friends in high places, friends who were still out there and wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet between their eyes. The little ones were safer there and the family blended in with the populace. Jensen didn't, so he had left them in sun and sand and gone back to the States despite the danger.

He’d promised to keep in touch. They'd all known it was a lie. The Losers were done. Pooch had something precious to care for and Jake? Jake wouldn't give the bastards any way to find him and his family. If Cougar had made it, maybe he'd have had something to protect too, but Cougar…

Jake couldn't think about Cougar. He couldn't think about what might have been if Max had never happened. If Roque… Well, he'd given Roque what he deserved and then some. Thinking about Roque only filled him with satisfaction. Thinking about Cougar filled him with pain and guilt, made him wonder how he'd failed to notice his best friend was so lost. How had he missed it? Why hadn’t he seen Cougar had nothing left but killing Max? When had he given up? It wasn't like Jensen knew. And that was the problem: He'd failed Cougar.

Sure, maybe the bullets would have done him in anyways, but Cougar had given up. Jake had seen it in his eyes, heard it plain from his lips. Though he’d promised to come back, he'd known there was no cavalry that could save Cougar in time. Not when he didn’t have the will to fight.

So Jake didn’t think about Cougar, but he liked to think he was doing alright otherwise. That first month, after getting Pooch and family settled, had been rough though. More than rough, but tequila tasted like Cougar and Jensen hadn't been able to resist the temptation. It had taken a week long bender and a shootout in El Paso before he’d crept back from the edge his father had fallen off. It didn’t hurt any less, but he’d made himself new rules. Avoid interactions with short Mexicans, states where people favored cowboy hats, and _definitely_ avoid tequila. 

He’d found himself a place outside Boston, a new identity, and a job at Best Buy. Not because he wanted to - he _hated_ that place and their dumb uniforms - but because it gave him a routine. Plus, normal people had things like day jobs and the more normal he looked, the more he'd blend in. If he blended in, they wouldn't find him and kill him. 

Unlike Cougar, he wasn't going to give up. He’d proven that after El Paso and a hundred days sober. He was just going to be bitter as fuck, and angry, and die that way as an old, old man.

Because fuck people who gave up.

Jake was doing alright. He had his shifts at his shitty job, MMORPGs, coding commissions from strangers online, and spite. Lots and lots of spite.

Jake reminded himself how he _wasn't going to give up like certain assholes_ as he drove past the three liquor stores on his way home from work. His mind was on his latest commission, running through possible solutions to an error he'd found during testing. The deadline was approaching and he needed the money to keep his equipment up to date. He was so engrossed in his own head, he almost missed the blinking alarm light in his front window.

Well, he did miss it. He should have spotted it before pulling up, then just driven past his home and disappeared. That was the point of the light, but he hadn't been paying enough attention. He hadn't noticed the light, triggered by motion sensor, until he was already in the driveway.

“Getting sloppy,” Jake grumbled as he put his nondescript Corolla in park and retrieved his pistol from the glove compartment. 

Whoever had broken in would know he was back now; the Corolla wasn’t quiet. Jake had moments to get in before the intruder realized they'd been made. After subduing the son of a bitch, he'd have two minutes to grab his go bag and torture the bastard to find out what they knew.

At least there was an upside to being sloppy: He wouldn't have to abandon _everything_. Maybe. It would depend on who was after him and how much they already knew, which was why there would be torturing. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to ditch his Warcraft account. Leveling up a new character and gearing it out would suck. Then again, Jake thought as he boosted himself onto the roof of his back patio, he didn't have anything better to do with his nights. It would take a month or more, but he could rebuild his account, make new friends, find a new guild. 

It was still aggravating. What had he even done to get caught? As he lifted the screen on the unlocked, back window, he decided it was one more thing to find out in the minute, forty he had left. He drew his pistol and slipped silently off the sil.

The house was as quiet and dark as Jake had left it. If he hadn't hidden the motion detectors, Jake didn't think he'd have suspected a thing. Then again, that was why he'd set them up since this was this was the most expected attack. Break into his house, make it look like an accident, and leave him dead on the floor. 

Jensen smiled in the dark; he loved fucking up the bad guy’s plans.

The second floor was empty. Jake lived exclusively on the first floor so it took only a few seconds to verify no one had opened any of the doors. At the top of the stairs, Jake could see a light on in the back of the house; the kitchen. He crept down the stairs, keeping to the outer edges and skipping the third step entirely to ensure his descent was silent. 

It was odd for an assassin to turn on a light, Jake mused as he swept the front rooms for the trap that should have been lying in wait. The living room and laundry room were empty. A shadow shifted in the kitchen, dishware clattered, and Jake paused in the hallway. It wasn't right, it didn't add up. Even if he hadn't booby trapped the house he would have known someone was here the moment he'd opened the front door.

Shaking his head, Jake steadied his aim and swept around the doorjamb. It didn’t matter if the bastards were as sloppy as he’d grown, they were in his house. No one should be in his house.

“Don’t move,” Jake growled at the dark haired man at the sink. He was deeply tanned, long hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, and about six inches shorter than Jake. His once white shirt was stretched at the collar and his jeans were torn from wear instead of style. 

The hands drying one of Jake's blue plates went still, so Jake didn't fire.

“Good.” Jake kept his distance, not about to risk being disarmed. “No sudden movements. Put your hands behind your head and turn around.”

The plate was lowered to the sink, the man turned, and Jake had to wonder if he'd lost his damn mind. He _knew_ those eyes, those lips, the lines etched in sun-kissed skin. He knew every _inch_ of the man standing before him. 

A man who was dead.

Jake's mind spun, but there were few possibilities. Either this was an imposter, he had gone insane, or Cougar wasn't dead. Since Cougar couldn't have survived a nuke, no matter his innate badassery, it was not the later. 

Jake’s chest ached; God, he wanted it to be Cougar. An imposter would make sense. If they could trick Jake into believing the imposter, he’d tell Fake Cougar anything; Steggler, his new team, even where to find Pooch. 

An imposter would have worn the hat, though. 

Come to think of it, Crazy Jake’s hallucination of Cougar would have also worn the hat. Which brought him back to the third option again. Impossible.

Why was it getting so hard to breathe?

The Fake Cougar, or the hallucination, or Cougar himself took a slow step forward. Jake knew he should stop him, or fire, or… something… He couldn't move, not even when the Fake Cougar, or the hallucination, or Cougar took Jake’s gun right out of his hands. Disarmed him, and he didn't even put up a fight.

“Jake,” the man said and Jake wiped imposter off the list. There was no faking that rough voice when it said his name. He'd have _known_.

“Did I crack?” Jake asked. “Did it finally happen? Roque always said it would happen one day.”

“Roque said a lot of things,” Cougar said. It was a lot of words for a real Cougar and Jake mentally leaned back toward hallucination. Only, he didn’t think a figment of his own mind would lie to him.

“I'm not crazy?” Jake asked, noting the edge of hysteria creeping into his tone and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. He needed the hallucination or the man to tell him directly, yes or no. He had to be sure.

Cougar shook his head.

Jake said, “How?” and “Where’s your hat?” but wasn't sure how his mouth managed either question. It was _Cougar_ , the real deal, standing in his kitchen. A dead man was standing in his kitchen. His every dream was coming true, and that just didn't happen to him. This? This was too good to be true.

Cougar shrugged, answering both questions with a single gesture.

Another option occurred to Jake then, and he asked, “Am I dead?”

“No,” Cougar said and there was a laugh in the word.

The numbness faded at Cougar’s amusement and anger began to seep into his bones. Jake clenched his fists, his jaw, and growled, “Then where the hell have you been?”

A single, black eyebrow lifted toward Cougar’s hairline in patented disbelief.

“You make it hard to find you, then you are surprised when it is trouble to find you?”

Jake had to admit that that was a good point. Nevertheless, the knuckles on his left hand popped audibly and Cougar’s brown eyes darted to his fists in alarm. Maybe he thought Jake was going to punch him. Part of Jake was tempted, but he was furious for completely different reasons.

“I didn't,” Jake couldn't finish the sentence. “You gave up,” he spat instead, but then promptly blurted, “I didn't go _back_ for you.”

That was the real problem. If Cougar was alive, then Jake had left him behind. He'd told Pooch no one was coming, that they were all dead, and they'd left Cougar with bullet wounds and a nuke in his lap. _Jake_ had left Cougar to _die_.

“You would have died,” Cougar argued.

“ _You_ didn't.”

Cougar made a noise communicating both concern and irritated. Jake loved it; had thought he would never hear it again. The anger and guilt swirling in him didn't abate, but tears sprang to his eyes. Cougar was _here_. Cougar wasn't _dead_. All the months he’d failed to come to terms with Cougar’s death, and now he didn't have to. Jake could see all his expressions; ticks of lips, eyes, eyebrows, and forehead. There was no longer a danger he'd forget one, or the startling depths of Cougar’s brown eyes. He wouldn't have to hoard his memories, or drown them in tequila, or rail bitterly at a ghost.

Strong, calloused fingers brushed Jake's skin as Cougar laid a hand along his neck and shoulder. The fingers of the other brushed his clenched fist, then carefully pried his fingers open to lace their fingers together. 

If Jake squeezed too hard, Cougar didn't complain.

“There would not have been time for you to come back.” Jake swallowed, but Cougar didn't stop talking. It was the most Jake had heard from him since they had “died" in that chopper crash. “I moved; you would not have found me in time to avoid the blast. You would be dead.” He licked his lips and the hand on Jake's shoulder slipped behind his neck, squeezing gently. “I'm sorry. I should have gone with you.”

The anger blew out of Jake in a rush. The guilt would take longer to follow - likely only after a play-by-play of what Cougar had done to survive - but the bitterness subsided and the rage he’d carried was gone. He rocked forward, then grabbed at Cougar. One hand fisted in his shirt, the other winding about his waist to pull their bodies flush.

“Damn right,” Jake said, his voice hoarse. “Don't you ever do that shit again.”

“Never,” Cougar promised, eyes and voice steady and serious. He _meant_ it. Jake had no doubt the reasons Cougar had given up were still there - the nightmares of those poor kids - but he was still going. He wasn't going to quit again.

“You'll tell me,” Jake demanded. “If it gets so bad again, you'll tell me. ‘Cause I didn't know, Cougs. I'm-"

Cougars hand covered Jake's mouth, stopping his apology. 

“I did not want you to see,” Cougar said as he trailed the fingers on his lips along Jake’s jaw.

“And you're a master of stealth,” Jake tried to joke, but it fell flat. He shook his head. “I mean it; you'll tell me?"

After a heart stopping hesitation, Cougar nodded and Jake allowed himself to breathe again. Cougar’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding them close. Bowing his head, Jake curled forward until his face pressed against Cougar’s neck. He was warm, solid, steady, and held Jake tight. How many times had Jake wished for this? Tried to imagine what it was like? And he had it _back_. Even the way his glasses pinched his nose was welcome.

Cougar’s arm tightened around his waist, the other sliding into his hair. They stood like that for God knew how long, silent, clinging to each other. Jake would have been embarrassed if Cougar hadn’t just come back from the dead. 

Finally, he lifted his head and made to pull back. He hadn’t really had enough of Cougar, but they’d never been a touchy-feely couple. Yet he didn’t get inches before Cougar’s arms tightened on him, pulling him back. Jake looked up in confusion, but grinned as Cougar’s lips pressed to his own. The grin didn’t fade as they kissed. It was a chaste thing, but that didn’t meant it lacked passion. Cougar’s mouth burned against his own, leaving his lips tingling as they brushed together over and over.

“It’s over,” Cougar said between kisses, “No more hiding.” He leaned back, gripped the nape of Jake’s neck and leaned their foreheads together. “No more holding back.”

“Well, the hiding is still a thing.” Cougar gave him a dubious look and Jake’s grin widened so his face started to ache. “I can’t _wait_ to show you Pooch’s bar.”

Cougar’s eyebrows went up, but his lips twitched and his eyes sparkled. It sobered Jake quickly as something swelled in his chest, making him feel tight in his own skin.

“Missed you, buddy,” Jake whispered. 

Cougar shook him again, like he was a misbehaving kitten. The look in his eyes softened, though.

“I am here,” he promised and Jake managed to take a deep breath. “You are here. It’s all right.”

“Yeah.” Jake let out his breath and nodded slowly, finally believing it might be. “Yeah, all right, but you know, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the hat.”

Cougar rolled his eyes fondly, pulling Jake down into another kiss as he said, “A hat can be replaced.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit me on Tumblr
> 
> [cleo4u2](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com)


End file.
